


Gimli's Prank (Or how Thranduil May Have Been Right About Dwarves)

by Processpending



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Chubby Legolas, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 10:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16721757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Processpending/pseuds/Processpending
Summary: When Gimli's prank goes awry poor Legolas finds himself with an insatiable appetite and all the consequences that come with it.





	Gimli's Prank (Or how Thranduil May Have Been Right About Dwarves)

**Author's Note:**

> In case you missed the tags, there will be weight gain in this story. If that's something you don't enjoy, please see your device's back button to be escorted out.  
> As usual, flames are accepted, but only when done in such a manner that I believe you put effort forth. We're talking Dead Poet Society, Robin Williams speech here.

The feast was in full swing and things, as usual, weren’t going as they should. Gimli kept shooting glances at Legolas who couldn’t seem to get enough to eat. Aragorn didn’t care, but knew it was unusual for elves to have such an appetite.

“Las, are you...well?” Aragorn kept his voice low, not wanting to embarrass his friend, though the question alone caused the elf’s cheeks to flush as his fork paused halfway to his mouth.

“I’m not sure honestly. My hunger has been growing for days, it seems no matter how much I eat, I’m never sated.”  _ And I’ve grown weary of this nagging hunger and can stand it no longer,  _ though he’ll never admit this to the ranger.The elf’s confession worries him even more, Legolas is not known for sharing what ails him. He must truly be concerned to so readily share what’s plaguing him..

“Mayhaps the hobbits are rubbing off on you.” Aragorn jokes, hoping to alleviate his friend’s fears. “We can go to your room and I can examine you. I’m sure the twins will aid us.” 

“I would not ruin your night for something so silly as a little hunger.” Legolas shakes his head, dispelling the ranger’s suggestion.

“Tomorrow. First thing.” Aragorn adopts the tone so often employed by his adar.

“Elrond would be proud.” Legolas smiles, but nods his agreement, turning back to the full plate before him. Aragorn does his best to discreetly study the elf next to him and what he sees makes him think he should insist on examining Legolas  _ now _ . Legolas is wearing a tunic the ranger’s not seen before, but that’s not what gives him cause for concern, it’s the rounded swell of the elf’s belly pressing against the fabric. Legolas has one armed wrapped around it, though Aragorn isn’t sure if it’s because it pains the elf or he’s embarrassed.

~ ~ ~

As the evening continues, Aragorn loses track of the elf, getting pulled aside by various groups to talk with their King. Legolas doesn’t lose sight of him, he just can’t get to him. The gnawing hunger won’t abate and the elf finds himself eating plate after plate, the hall so crowded no one notices when he doesn’t leave the table to socialize as he usually does. It’s when he can’t rise from the chair, his overfull belly pinning him to his seat, that Legolas realizes something is _wrong._ It’s this startling realization that has his fork clattering to his plate, eyes wildly scanning the room for Aragorn and is relieved to see the man headed back towards the head of the hall.

As Aragorn makes his way back to the King’s table,  he notes Legolas and a few others have made their way back as well.  _ He’s fine, he would tell you if something was seriously wrong. It’s good for him to have an appetite, he’s always been too thin-even for an elf. The hour is late, there’s no reason I can’t sit briefly among friends.  _ Aragorn tries to convince himself as he makes his way through the hall.

_ What exactly am I going to say to Estel? I’ve let my hunger get the best of me, such so that I fear I may burst. I was wrong about waiting until morning, I need you to examine me now?  _ By the time Aragorn resumes his seat Legolas has sufficiently talked himself out of alerting the ranger to his...predicament.

Any hopes Aragorn had of surreptitiously studying Legolas are waylaid by a sudden strike-up of music as the hobbits take to the floor and begin one of their songs and dances. Setting himself to wait to ask Legolas’ how he fares, he joins in with the crowd clapping for his dancing friends. 

Legolas shifts once again, hoping to find a position that relieves the burning ache in his hips and back. Wishing he could stand, if only to stretch, Legolas drops his hands to either side of his large belly, concerned at how tight it is. Spreading his legs to give it more room he tries once more to rise, finding himself as yet unable. It’s this motion that draws Aragorn’s attention to the elf’s ceaseless shifting beside him, turning to Legolas he takes in the elf’s strained features.

“Las?” Legolas turns large, blue eyes on him, hands pressed to his swollen stomach. Glancing down, Aragorn notices how distended it looks from when he’d first noticed the swell earlier in the evening. What had once just seemed to brush the tunic is now stretching the very seams of it. Starting to round out just under the elf’s chest, the swell can’t be completely contained and Aragorn can easily see a strip of pale skin against the dark fabric.

“I feel like I’m going to burst.” Legolas fights to keep his voice low while still being able to be heard over the festival’s din. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite quiet enough.

“Of course you feel like you’re going to give birth! You look nearly due!” Elladan’s voice carries over the prince’s head, causing Legolas to flinch and wrap his arms around his stomach as though he could hide the evidence. Casting a sharp look behind Legolas, Aragorn notices Elladan, Elrohir right behind giving the ranger a confused look. 

“Let’s get you to your room, mellon nin.” Aragorn says, beginning to rise. It’s the plading blue eyes that Legolas implores him with, swallowing his pride he little more than mouths the words. “I cannot,” wrapping his arms tighter around himself. It dawns on Aragorn then and he can’t help but glance down at the swollen stomach once more. Legolas turns away, shame burning his cheeks.

“Legolas is unwell, would you help me get him to his room so that I might look him over.” Aragorn implores Elrohir, sensing he’s imbibed less than his twin. Before Legolas can move, Elrohir is at his side, gently pulling the prince up as Aragorn does the same from his side. Neither misses the grimace that crosses Legolas’ face as his heavy belly resettles, the elf leaning heavily on the table as his balance shifts.. FLushing with embarrassment, Legolas keeps his eyes focused on the ground in front of him as Aragorn leads him from the hall through a back door; Elrohir following close by. 

“Ro, will you go to my rooms and grab my healer’s pack and anything else you can think we could use? We’ll be in Legolas’ rooms.” With a nod, Elrohir takes off, leaving Legolas and Aragorn to a slower place that jostles the ailing elf less. “Las, don’t be ashamed. You know Ro won’t say anything and I just want-” Aragorn is cut off when Legolas cocks his head, hearing something Aragorn has yet to.

“Elbereth! Does my...shame know...no bounds?” Legolas’ voice is low and harsh, before Aragorn can ask, Gimli comes at a near run around the corner behind them.

“Laddie!” Legolas slows to a stop, knowing he won’t escape the dwarf in his current state and prefers to get the mocking over with. Catching up to them, Gimli finally gets a good look at his friend, eyes widening in shock. “I’m so sorry.” Legolas is as surprised at the dwarf’s words as Aragorn; before either can ask Gimli continues, “I had no idea, it was just a joke. Had I known I never woulda done it. Please, tell me he’ll be ok. You can fix ‘im can’t you Strider?” This last is directed at the ranger who quickly collects himself, seeing the elf is just as shocked as he is.  _ Gimli had done this? _

“What did you give him?  _ Exactly? _ ” Aragorn questions, his voice dark. Gimli shifts nervously before him.

“Coriandrum sativum. The healers tol’ me it was good ta encourage appetite. I gave ‘im a dose the first day but it didn’t seem to have any effect.” Aragorn feels Legolas shift and casts a concerned glance at the elf who’s hunched forward. Shoulders curled over his large belly  in effort to hide it or from discomfort the ranger doesn’t know. Wincing in sympathy the man watches as Legolas drags the palm of his hand hard against the side of his heavy belly.

“The  _ first day? _ ” Legolas is too angry for words, distracted by the unrelenting pain in his stretched muscles and the call for food that’s plagued him for days. He’s having trouble accepting his friend would cause him such harm. Gimli continues to stammer on, explaining that he thought he’d not given the elf enough and so gave a little more the next day. This process had continued on for several days, but by the time the dwarf noticed it working, he’d given Legolas far too much.

“Laddie, I’m so sorry. I didna think it would harm ye.” Gimli’s hands are nervously fluttering about Legolas, hesitant to actually touch the distended belly that’s eye level with him. “You can help ‘im? Give ‘im something?” Gimli shifts his gaze from the hand Legolas has pressed to the underside of his belly in hopes the support will ease the ache in his back, to Aragorn.

“I’m going to try Gimli, but you’ve given him far too much for his body to handle. I’m sure what the healers gave you was meant for a  _ dwarf;  _ not an  _ elf.  _  He’s in a great deal of pain. His stomach muscles are stretched and if I don’t remedy it soon he runs the risk of tearing them.” As Aragorn says this, he runs his right hand gently across the front of Legolas’ belly, drawing the dwarf’s attention. Legolas doesn’t possess the knowledge of healing the ranger does, but even the elf knows this is false. Or at least he  _ really  _ hopes it to be. The ranger’s words have the desired effect and the dwarf’s eyes widen in horror and concern, looking upon the elf once.

“Now, if you’ll leave us, I really need to examine Legolas and see if I can remedy what you’ve done.” With that, Aragorn gently prompts the elf forward with the arm still about his waist, leaving a concerned dwarf in the hall.

~ ~ ~

“We’re nearly there, Las.” Aragorn tries to reassure his friend, the elf nearly panting by the time they get to the family halls, a grimace marring his fine features. 

“You...can…” Legolas grinds out, his breath coming in harsh gasps.

“Fear not, mellon nin. I simply thought Gimli deserved to worry for a bit.” Aragorn was concerned at the pain his friend was showing, he knew it must be great for the usually stoic elf to struggle in hiding it. 

“There you are!” Elrohir appears in Legolas’ doorway. Legolas lifts his head and gives the barest of a smile before he lets it fall to stare at the floor before him once more. Elrohir shares a look with Aragorn, concerned at his friend’s demeanor.

“Gimli dosed Las with coriandrum sativum as a prank. Unfortunately, when it didn’t work the first day he kept giving more.” Aragorn isn’t terribly familiar with the herb, though he has heard of it he’s never heard of counteracting it. Elrohir spits a few elvish words Aragorn’s never heard before, though from the tone and placement of “dwarf”, the ranger is fairly certain it’s nothing pleasant. His suspicions are confirmed when he hears a snort from Legolas and catches a smile curling the prince’s lips.

Unfortunately the smile quickly falls into a grimace, “No...laughing.  Gonna burst.” The elf pants out, running a hand across his spasming stomach muscles as he hunches further. 

“I shall fetch the herbs we need from the healing halls. If you’ll set the water boiling?” Elrohir instructs, already moving out of the doorway to let Aragorn and Legolas in. Aragorn guides Legolas over to his bed, hoping to make the elf more comfortable. Gently setting Legolas on the edge of the bed, he quickly sets about filling the pot and setting it over the fire. Turning back, he finds Legolas arms stretched behind him on the bed, propping him up as he attempts to toe-off his boots with little success. Easily dropping to his knees before the elf, Aragorn has to fight the elf to remove his boots.

“Estel…” Legolas begins to chastise the ranger before him, though he doesn’t get far as the pressure on his lungs makes it difficult to talk.

“You are not well mellon nin. Now cease before you kick me in the face.” Legolas is grateful the ranger had his back turned when the elf had tried to lean down to tug off his boots, just managing to keep the pained groan from passing his lips. He was going to kill the dwarf. Once the boots are off, Aragon gestures for Legolas to scoot up the bed and recline against the headboard so that he can begin his exam. 

“It’d be best if you’d remove your outer tunic.” Aragorn says softly, not wanting to make his friend uncomfortable. With a small nod Legolas undoes the clasps holding his over tunic closed, cheeks flaming pink in shame. He is however, unable to disguise how much better it felt to not have his growing belly restrained.

“Las?” Aragorn asks, concern in his voice.

“Was a little tight.” Legolas flushes deeper, embarrassed at the admission as he runs his hand over the large swell of his belly, smoothing the clinging undertunic as it rides up. Aragorn begins to gently palpate the elf’s stomach, starting just under his breast bone where it begins its outward curve.  _ He wasn’t kidding.  _ The ranger thinks to himself as he presses gently on the drum tight swell, there’s no give, though he longs to press the slightest bit harder. Keeping a light pressure, he drags his hands to the underside of the belly, keeping one eye trained on his friend’s face.

Legolas bites his lip, trying to stifle the hiss that threatens to escape. Aragorn doesn't miss this, pausing in his exam he glances fully at the elf, eyes raised in question.  "It's a bit...sensitive." Legolas isn't sure how else to describe it, not that he wishes to describe it at all but the feel of his tunic rubbing over the sensitive skin was only just bearable.  _ It’s as though he were touching my ears. No! We are  _ not  _ thinking about that now. _ As Legolas begins to breathe carefully deep breaths through his nose, the ranger returns to his exam, though he keeps it brief and one eye trained on his friend's features, not wishing to cause anymore distress.

  
“Any other pain? I need to know everything that ails you mellon nin.” Fixing his best healer’s gaze on the elf all the while trying to keep his eyes from straying to the round belly between them.

“I feel as though I may burst, though my hunger doesn’t abate.” Aragorn waits, feeling there’s more the stubborn elf isn’t telling him as they’d already established this symptom. Finally, Legolas continues, “My back and hips ache.”

“I’m sure that’s from the….” Aragorn trails off, gesturing to Legolas’ stomach. “You’re body isn’t used to it, I can give you something to ease it.” 

“It’s not unbearable.” Legolas shakes his head. Whatever argument Aragorn had is deterred by Elrohir’s reappearance. Elrohir had seen his dear friend in various states of dress, and undress, over the years. However, Legolas reclined against the pillows, a thin undertunic riding up to reveal his legging pushed low his swollen stomach gives him pause. Neither brother misses the flush that sears the young elf’s cheeks at the obvious shock as Legolas averts his gaze in shame. 

“I’m afraid we can’t reverse the effects of what you’ve already taken, however we should be able to lessen them.” When this earns the coverlet a nod from Legolas, Elrohir casts a pleading glance at Aragorn. As the man tries to think of what to say he watches his friend, noting the restlessness of Legolas’ hands; fluttering up from the bed before Legolas seems aware and forces them back down. 

_ Oh you foolish, prideful elf.  _

“You’re in pain, there’s no shame in wanting comfort.” The words are low and catch Legolas’ attention, eyes peering up at the man from his bowed head. Gently, Aragorn begins running his hand over the swell, making sure to keep his touch light. “You startled him is all.” At that Legolas’ eyes flicker over to Elrohir who is intently making the promised tea.

“I could see how this would be...startling.” A smile pulls at the elf’s lips, though it’s hesitant. This earns a chuckle from Elrohir who turns and makes his way to the bed, the tea’s steam trailing him. Aragorn has the grace to look sheepish before his brother, reclaiming his hands as Elrohir hands Legolas the mug.

Legolas eyes the tea warily as he clasps it between his hands, balanced on the swell of his belly, the warmth surprisingly soothing to the taut flesh. Elrohir gives Aragorn a pointed look, “I’ll be in my room if you need anything.” and with those words he’s quietly gone. Turning back to the bed and his friend Aragorn studies the elf. 

“Las, you have to drink that.” Legolas eyes Aragorn wearily. 

“I fear anymore and I shall burst.” Legolas admits, dropping his eyes once more. Aragorn watches as the elf  runs one hand over his large stomach, giving the bottom of the tunic a futile tug, before returning it to the cup. 

“I know you don’t want to ingest anymore, but just this and I promise you’ll feel better.” Legolas nods and looks once more at the tea before raising it to his lips and gulping it down as though he’s afraid he’ll lose his nerve. No sooner has he swallowed the last mouthful than his already overfull stomach threatens to give back the tea. Closing his eyes, Legolas clamps his jaw shut, swallowing hard as he fights the rising liquid. He feels Aragorn pull the cup from his loose fingers before his long hair is lifted and a cool cloth is pressed to the back of his neck. Legolas startles when Aragorn’s hand begins to run soothing paths across the his swollen stomach once more, but finds himself relaxing into the touch.

“It’s ok Las, it’ll pass. Just breathe.” Legolas focuses on the soothing feel of the man’s hand, the cloth is replaced twice before Legolas feels certain that everything will stay down.

“Hannon le.” Legolas murmurs, opening his eyes to find the ranger’s gray ones watching him intently. Studying him a moment longer, Aragorn stands, taking the cloth and cup with him to the nearby table. Though Legolas would never admit it, he misses the comforting feel that came from Aragorn rubbing his achingly overfull belly. Before he can say anything more he feels the familiar tiredness seeping into his awareness.

“Don’t fight it. I doubt he gave you the full dose, just enough to help you sleep. Come on, lay down.” Aragorn moves to the chair by the bed as Legolas scoots down so he’s laying on his back. This only lasts a moment before he begins struggling, the pressure on his lungs making it difficult to breathe. As he struggles to make his sluggish muscles push himself back up, Aragorn’s hands are there, gently easing him into sitting. 

“I’m...going...to kill...that dwarf.” Legolas pants out, hoping the ranger doesn’t notice the flush of embarrassment once more upon his cheeks. Aragorn just chuckles and studies his friend for a moment, trying to catch the memory of how to fix this problem. 

“I’ll be right back.” With that Aragorn leaves the room, missing the exasperated huff Legolas releases as he falls back against the headboard. Aragorn returns moments later, arms loaded with pillows. As he drops the pillows next to the bed he catches the raised eyebrow Legolas is watching him with. 

“Estel...I’m really...in no condition...for a pillow fight.” His dry sense of humor drawing a chuckle from the ranger.

“Move back down and turn on your side.” Legolas does his best to hide the grimace as his back and hips bark in pain at the shifting. Aragorn knows his friend too well and is there, helping to ease the elf onto his side. 

“Lean back.” Aragorn gently guides the elf so he’s leaning back before he pick up one of the pillows, placing it next to the elf before guiding him back, his heavy belly now cushioned. Before Legolas can question, Aragorn gently taps the elf’s knee, “Lift.” The shift sends a sharp pain through his hips before Aragorn is gently pressing his knee back down; a pillow now tucked between his legs. Stepping back, he surveys the elf, comparing it to the times he’d seen his father do this. Legolas had been quiet through the whole thing, his addled mind making the thoughts hard to focus on and harder to voice.

“Better?” Aragorn asks, sitting down in the chair so he’s not looming over the elf . Legolas starts with a small nod yes, trying hard to voice his question, “Where?” He finally gets out, gesturing down the length of his  body. Aragorn stares at him for a long minute, waiting for more and when none comes, he chances an answer, “Ada uses this to help woman who are close to birthing.” Aragorn realizes too late his mistake at the ice blue eyes suddenly glaring at him and the red color high on the elf’s cheeks.

“Las, I...you were in pain. No one need know.” Legolas lets out a resigned sigh. After all that’s happened a few pillows will probably the least memorable thing.

**Author's Note:**

> As it stands, because I don't want to be terrible and delay an update, this is a one-shot. I have started a second chapter where things go M/M or rather, A/L.  
> If you enjoyed this and would like to see, say the day after with a still rather round Legolas and a flustered Aragorn let me know.


End file.
